


In Relations to Sam

by BeganAtKansas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But it's okay, Dean beats the crap out of him, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Just A Smidge Of Violence, M/M, Mostly Fluff, OMC is a douche, Possessive Dean, Possessive Dean Winchester, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Sam, Supernatural - Freeform, my tags are so informal fml
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 21:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeganAtKansas/pseuds/BeganAtKansas
Summary: Dean just wants a drink with his brother at a bar on a beautiful Saturday night after a good hunt as a celebratory sort of thing, because they're both not injured (too much, anyway) or dead, or about to die, or have the impediment of utter doom looming over their heads and weighing on their shoulders.Is that too much to ask?Apparently it is, according to someone at the bar. But then, he goes down the wrong path, and Dean decides that he's had enough of the nosy asshole trying to pick away at their lives when they practically know nothing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, author here, this is my first Wincest fic, so be nice. Pfft. I suppose it can seem just the smallest bit unlike the boys? But come on, this would sort of happen somewhere at a back scene in the show that we didn't see yet. Aha. Anyway, hope you enjoy. This is uh, kinda unbeta'd and I may have missed a typo here and there or the phrasings may be a bit off, but please bear with me! ^^' Thank you!

All Dean wanted was to have some off time with his brother at the bar after a good hunt. And Sam had agreed, and they’d both gotten into the car and had driven to a bar where light and music, as well as chatter drifted out from the doors that were occasionally shoved open as people entered and exited. Dean spilled out of the car, his bright emerald eyes gleaming as he turned to grin at his younger brother, who smiled back at him.

It was a good night. Things felt normal and settled, nothing was awry, and a clear inky black sky with shining pinpoints of white splattered here and there was present, and Dean let out a sigh, his heated breath fogging up the cold air.

“Been awhile since we did this.” Dean chuckled, and Sam gave a small nod, sauntering over to stand closer to his older brother.

“Yeah… It’s nice.” He murmured quietly as he stood beside the older man, looking up at the sky for a few moments before they both headed inside the bar, being swallowed up by swaying bodies, warm air, and the faint sound of old music faintly playing in the background, the somewhat cheerful voices of the bar filling in the empty gaps to complete the scene.

Sam and Dean found their way to the bar, taking two chairs in the corner, mostly away from the crowd before the older nodded to the bartender, beckoning him over. “Whiskey, on the rocks.” He murmured, glancing to his brother, who shrugged.

“A beer for me, thanks.” The bartender nodded, turning to get the drinks ready, and Dean raised a brow at Sam, who only grinned wryly at him without another word. And with that, Dean chuckled, shaking his head, although he made no further comment.

They’d just received their drinks, and they’d only started to take sips of the alcohol in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company when someone came over, sitting beside them. Dean didn’t pay the person much attention, revisiting old memories of simpler times when he and Sam would do this on occasion after a hunt. It was a bit before Dean’s gaze flickered over to glance at his brother, only to spot the grizzled man who seemed older than them, watching Sam with speculative eyes, obviously interested.

Something inside Dean reared its ugly head, averse and furious to the fact that someone else was looking at his Sam with lustful eyes. The brunet was about to snap at the man rather crossly if they could help him with something when he spoke, his nasally voice grating against Dean’s nerves.

“Sam Winchester.” The name rolled off the older man’s tongue, as if he was trying it out and tasting it, and it sent a shudder of disgust down Dean’s spine, and his hand tightened on his glass, his mind racing a mile a minute. He knew Sam? Who was he? Monster?

“Now, I heard tales about you, from the others.” He went on, and by now, Sam had turned his head to stare at the man with wide hazel eyes, his brows furrowed uncertainly as he watched the other man. Dean realized who he was eventually, mostly due to the air the other had around him and the way he held himself, as well as the scars peeking out from his shirt. Another Hunter. He relaxed just a bit, although he glared at the man, as if telling him to back off, not that he paid attention to Dean, wholly focused on Sam.

“The bastard that started the apocalypse and let Lucifer out from his cage in Hell.” Dean saw Sam visibly flinch back to the older’s words, something too close to pain and guilt flashing over his younger brother’s face, and he seemed to collapse in on himself, arms finding their way to curl around his elbows, looking away. Dean could feel cold fury building up inside of him, and the older Winchester wanted nothing more than to slit this Hunter’s throat and leave him dying in a ditch, because how dare he talk to Sam that way? He fumed, and he opened his mouth, about to tell the guy to fuck off before he broke his neck, because he knew all too well that Sam wouldn’t, but it was what the guy said next that made him explode.

“Well, can’t deny, you look like an extremely fuckable bitch.” The Hunter chuckled low in his throat after that, a hand reaching out as if to touch Sam, but it never did. A fist came flying and collided with the man’s face in a harsh melody, the sound of bone cracking loud in the air, followed by screams and people backing away as the man fell out of his chair from the force of the blow, sprawling out onto the floor. Dean stood over the man, and there was nothing colder than the older Winchester’s eyes, hard as diamond and full of ice. The lines of his face were harsh with rage, mouth set in a snarl.

“What did you say?” Dean’s voice was like a whiplash through the air, tearing through the silence, but what was even more terrifying was the fact that it was quiet, slow and very clearly accentuated, brewing rage clipping the ends of his words in short and jerky staccato notes. He was tense, every inch of him exuding danger and he moved with a threatening and sinuous grace that had everyone automatically stumbling back from him as he glided across the floor closer to the man, seemingly expanding his size. Everything was happening too fast for Sam to process it fast enough, and he could only stare at the scene, mouth parted in surprise.

The Hunter on the floor groaned, sitting up as he reached up to place a hand on his face, wincing, before he shot a baleful look at Dean, although he seemed to balk a bit, faltering when he saw just who he was dealing with, and the fearsome expression on the older Winchester’s face. He was a force to be reckoned with.

Apparently, however, the Hunter seemed to lack a sense of self preservation, as he got up to his feet slowly, bravely coming closer to Dean, who watched with a cruel lift of the corner of his mouth, his hands fisting. “I said that your brother was a god damn fuckable bitch. Because at this point, isn’t that all he’s good for?” The Hunter taunted, but before he could even finish what he was saying, the man found himself knocked flat on his ass after another sickening crack and the crunching sound of bone breaking was heard, but Dean didn’t stop there. He lifted his hands up to guard his face and chest instinctively as if he was kickboxing, before Dean sent his foot flying, sending it smashing into the man’s face once more, causing the Hunter to let out a pitiful cry before he landed flat on his back, and a couple more screams in the background were heard, before Dean padded over, lifting a foot, pressing it down on the man’s neck, a disgusted and furious expression still on his face. He pushed down some of his weight on his foot, cutting off the man’s airflow who weakly batted at his foot, which made him only bear down harder, forcing him back into the floor.

“Apologize.” The order was said in a low voice, but the steel and bite in it was inarguable and unmistakable, his eyes glinting with hatred. “Or so help me, I’ll end your miserable life here and now.” The end of the statement twisted into an animalistic growl, reverberating from deep within the green eyed man’s chest, enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine, or cause their heart to skip a beat, or cause their blood to freeze up. It was the growl of an animal, and animal going for the kill. The man’s eyes widened in panic, because oh, anyone could hear just how serious Dean was, and the foot that pressed down harder against his windpipe only emphasized the point. He desperately patted at Dean’s foot, face turning red from the lack of air, and after one more moment, the older let up, lessening the force behind the foot.

“I’m sorry.” The man gasped out immediately, and Sam finally snapped out of it, mouth closing as he swallowed, his gaze flickering over to his older brother, and despite everything, the younger felt… Safe. Protected. Loved. He turned away, his chest and throat tight, head dipping down. He nodded mutely, and Dean looked over at him to see him nod, and Dean gave a curt one himself, seemingly satisfied as he turned away… Only to deliver one last hard kick to the man’s head, causing him to lose consciousness. And Dean couldn’t care less.

“Sam.” Dean turned to his brother, jerking his head toward the door. “We’re leaving.” He made his way over to his brother, pulling out his wallet, paying for their drinks and generously tipping the bartender who stared at him with a gaping mouth, and because the place had gone damn near silent throughout the whole encounter, the sound of Dean setting down the crumpled bills on the counter and patting it was like the crack of a whip in the air. The older turned, heading back toward Sam, before he paused, nodding reluctantly to the man on the floor. “Call an ambulance or something for that shit bag. Thanks for the drinks.” He muttered, and when Sam didn’t seem to be moving at his pace, Dean reached over to wrap an arm around his younger brother’s waist, fingers insistently slipping into the hem of his worn jeans, settling on the bare skin of his hip as he hauled the younger outside. Dean was stronger than he looked, and the younger was reminded of the time when he had been younger, and Dean had stepped in the chase off some bullies messing with Sam; not because he thought Sam couldn’t defend himself, but because he knew that Sam wouldn’t, not really. And Sam had complained and whined at Dean for doing so, but he secretly loved how protective of him Dean was. And this was no different. Sam felt small again, and he felt tired and worn from the insults thrown his way. He just wanted to burrow in Dean again, to hide against him like he did so many times when he had been younger whenever something scared him or hurt him. He had clung to Dean like there was no tomorrow, and all he wanted was that sense of security, safety, and love once again.

So he let go, closing his eyes, letting his emotions show through, the pained and the sad side of him making an appearance for the first time in years, a small broken sound leaving him. There was only so much that they could all take before they reached breaking point, and this was Sam’s. Dean’s attention was immediately on him, and they soon reached the car where Dean had to gently pry himself away from his younger brother, closing the passenger seat door after Sam got in, and slid into the driver’s seat himself, and immediately, Sam pressed in as close to Dean as he could, curling up the best he could, folding his long legs just a tad bit awkwardly into himself due to the cramped space, and he wasn’t sure where his vision started to blur, but Dean’s hands were on his face, wiping away the wetness, his voice soothing and hushed, and the furious Dean from earlier was gone, all replaced by soft lines of concern and affection now. “Shh, I got you. Come on, let’s go home.” He murmured, and with that, he reluctantly turned the key in the ignition, and the Impala came to life with a purr before he pulled out of the parking lot, driving out.

Sam merely burrowed as close as he could without disturbing Dean’s driving, burying his face into his shoulder, since he couldn’t nestle into the crook of his brother’s neck like he used to, and soon enough, they reached the bunker. Once the car was safely parked in the garage, Dean slid out of the car, opening the passenger door that Sam was trying to wrest open with shaky hands, and the younger just spilled out straight into Dean’s arms, burying his face into the older’s neck, shakily inhaling his scent of old leather and gunpowder that always seemed to cling to Dean wherever he went, and the smell of sandalwood and something else distinctly Dean, letting it overwhelm and surround him.

“Hey, hey. I know, I know, c’mon. Let’s get inside.” Dean murmured soothingly, and he put an arm around Sam, tugging him through the door into the bunker, and Sam let Dean take care of him, trusting the older. Soon enough, Dean had Sam pressed up against the wall, sandwiched between the said wall and his body in his room, and they shared a kiss full of unspoken words and reassurances. Sam whimpered softly into Dean’s mouth as he felt the heated and hungry kiss to his bones, warmth spreading from his head to his toes.

Dean had always run like a furnace, all fire and heat, just like his big brother. Sam could associate fire to Dean in every way possible. The way that he was warm and comforting when his flames were tamed, yet that very flame could become unstoppably powerful, wreaking havoc and destruction in its wake. Dean’s fiery temper, and snarky manners, his impulsive, risk taking, and reckless actions, as well as his uncontrollable tendencies that followed along with the strong and stubborn willed personality. He was the light and the warmth in the darkest of Sam’s nights, and he was drawn to Dean in every way possible. And it felt like he was being devoured in the said flames, the heat and fire burning under his skin. The older Winchester’s hands dragged over the planes that were exposed to him, and Sam arched into the touch before he felt his brother’s large hands settling on his waist, thumbs hitching his shirt up and rubbing circles into his hip bones, eliciting a shiver from the younger, who let his hazel eyes flutter shut and he leaned against Dean, sagging into him.

“I got you.” Dean murmured, leaning in to slide his lips gently over the skin of Sam’s neck, and the younger let out a soft sigh and another shiver as he felt Dean’s lips skating over his pulse.

“Dean.” Sam finally managed to finally rasp out, the first word out of his mouth since the bar, and his voice was as ragged as his breathing, a pleading note in it as he reached out to ball his hands into the back of Dean’s shirt, pulling Dean closer to him, and the older merely nodded, sliding a leg in between Sam’s- Damn, his younger brother was all leg- lining them up until they were flush against each other, skin pressing against skin.

“Yeah, baby boy?” The older spoke quietly in answer to his younger brother’s call, and Sam let out another soft sound that sounded dangerously close to a sob, and Dean raised a hand to pass it over the back of Sam’s head, smoothing over his younger brother’s mop of unruly brown hair soothingly.

“I… ‘M sorry. So sorry, Dean.” Sam spoke up, and Dean knew exactly what he meant. Ruby. Lucifer. And the older Winchester would be damned if he let his beloved younger brother go through that again.

“Sammy, hey. Baby boy, c’mon, look at me.” The green eyed man reached down, fingers sliding under Sam’s chin, gently coaxing his face up to meet his little brother’s tearful and pained hazel eyes, shaking his head.

“It’s all in the past, Sammy. We’re here, we’re together, and I’ll always damn love you, no matter what. You’re _mine._ You’re _my_ baby brother, _my_ baby boy, _my_ lover. You’re _mine_ to take care of, and _mine_ to love. And I do. I do so much, sweetheart. No one and nothing is ever going to change that.” Dean answered gruffly, and Sam felt his throat and chest tighten all over again, aching. He didn’t deserve Dean. He didn’t deserve someone as wonderful and amazing as his older brother. But Sam wanted him. He needed him, so badly.

“Dean.” He managed to force out again, emotions surging up, but he couldn’t find the words to express what he wanted to say, so he instead leaned into Dean’s touch, insistently pressing up against his brother, as if trying to push what he was feeling to Dean through sheer will force, but the older seemed to get the message, because he smiled, and god, Sam loved that smile. That soft smile where the corners of Dean’s lips were soft and tilted, and even Dean’s gorgeous green eyes lit up with that smile, loving and affectionate, and it made the younger weak in the knees all over again.

“I know. I know, Sammy.” He murmured, fingers petting the nape of Sam’s neck, rubbing against it, as if massaging the skin, and Sam relaxed once again, more tears spilling as he closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath along with a full body shudder, relaxing into Dean once more, leaning his head into the junction where the older’s neck met his shoulder.

“I love you.” Sam finally managed to say, his voice hoarse, face still wet with tears, but he felt Dean turn his head, and he felt him smile gently against his hair.

“I know. I love you too, Sammy.” The younger closed his eyes, letting out a soft sound, the start of a purr, and Dean’s smile widened. They stayed like that for how long, Sam didn’t know. But he was reluctant to move when Dean patted the back of his neck after a little bit. “C’mon, Sammy. Let’s go to bed.”

And that was exactly what the did, after they changed hurriedly, stripping each other of their clothes until they were both just in their boxers, not wanting to be apart for more than a minute, and slid under the covers of Dean’s bed, where Sam once again curled up against Dean, their legs tangling, and after a second, the younger smiled himself when he felt Dean’s hand creeping into his, wounding their fingers together, giving Sam’s hand a squeeze. The long haired man closed his eyes, nuzzling against the older’s neck again, safe, warm, and content. Loved. And god, did Sam love him back. Everything was right. Everything was okay. Everything would be fine.

Because as long as Dean was beside him, there was nothing Sam couldn’t do. As long as Dean loved him, Sam didn’t need anyone else. Dean was all that he wanted, all that he needed. That would never change.


End file.
